


Eternal Flames

by FiTheMemeQueenSupreme



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Chaos Servant Covenant all the way, Definitely a Rare Pair, F/F, Fem!Chosen Undead, I still feel terrible for killing Quelaag, Quelaan didn't even show up nor did Fair Lady in Relationships box
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 05:58:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16634276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiTheMemeQueenSupreme/pseuds/FiTheMemeQueenSupreme
Summary: But something gave her pause. It was as if an unseen hand had rested on top of hers. Just as she gripped the handle of her blade. Preventing her from drawing it from its sheathe at her hip. There was something different about this one.





	Eternal Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Is it safe to say I'm making it my mission to do a lot of rare pairs? Eh, probably. 
> 
> Care to join me for another adventure?
> 
> Enjoy!

Elenora let out a sigh as she collapsed onto the ground. Only allowing herself to relax when the last vestiges of Quelaag's body disappeared in a cloud of shimmering white particles. Leaving the Chosen Undead alone in the empty room. She had finally managed to defeat her. In truth, the Knight had lost count of how many times she had met her demise by the Chaos Witch's hand. Death by lava, stabbed to death, extreme blunt force, etc. But the first time was more due to shock on her part. She hadn’t expected the massive spider abdomen attached to the torso of a pale skinned woman to greet her. Genuine surprise having rooted her to the spot. Had she a moment longer to process what she was seeing, she might have survived. Quelaag’s flaming sword saw an end to that endeavor entirely. 

Was it only to get tougher from this point on? It was only thanks to Solaire alone that she managed to overcome the Gargoyles at the bell tower. With a groan she slowly sat up. Grasping the hilt of the peculiar katana she looted from the corpse of that annoying ‘shop keeper’ she had met. Had he not told her to jump off a cliff, he might have still been alive. There still a fair way to go yet, she had to press on…

 

\------

 

Elenora was shocked. There were more like Quelaag? The stood within the threshold of a room that was significantly smaller than the one Quelaag had been found in. At one point, it might have been a storage room. But not anymore. Just behind her, laying prone on the floor, was a grumbling man. A massive egg sac attached to his back. The weight most likely forcing him to stay in a prone position. Elenora promptly ignored him when she caught sight of a woman's upper body attached to a massive spider. Having had to fight someone who looked almost exactly identical her not even minutes earlier had her on edge. She would have not wasted any time in striking the unaware Witch down. But something gave her pause. It was as if an unseen hand had rested on top of hers. Just as she gripped the handle of her blade. Preventing her from drawing it from its sheathe at her hip. There was something different about this one. Was it the bonfire that rested several feet in front her? The ravings of her supposed ‘protector’ that watched her from his spot next to the entrance?

With the faintest hint of reluctance, she slowly approached the bonfire. Finding comfort in the presence of its radiating warmth as she sat opposite of the peculiar creature. It seemed that this one would not attack her. Was it because she seemed to be sleeping? That was certainly an odd way of doing so if she were. With hands clasped together almost as if she were praying. And head bowed. White matted hair framing a flawless almost porcelain face. Unlike Quelaag, this one had deathly pale skin. A result of never stepping foot in the sun most likely. The massive spider that her torso was attached to seemed to be dying. It’s limbs moving in a lethargic sort of fashion. Whether the creature could blink or not was beyond Elenora. Something she wasn’t too keen on learning anytime soon. The Knight was never too fond of Spiders. So, the numerous webs that decorated the dimly lit cave along with the equally numerous empty eggs surrounding the Witch bothered Elenora.

But that discomfort paled in comparison to her steadily growing curiosity. What was her name? Why was she here? Did she know Quelaag?

 

…… Was she dying?

 

Suddenly, the pale woman began to cough weakly. A delicate hand flying to her mouth as her shoulders shook. Elenora slowly removed her fully enclosed steel helmet. Revealing short fiery red hair. Wordlessly she set it on the ground beside her before rising. Withdrawing a canteen of water from her belt. When the nameless woman’s fit of coughing subsided, she spoke. But it seemed that both of them spoke a vastly different language entirely. Prompting a frown to tug at Elenora’s lips. She uncorked the canteen before gently placing it in the nameless woman’s hands. Whatever it was she said, Elenora suspected that she was grateful.

Silence fell over the relatively large room. Disturbed only by the grotesque spiderlike woman’s heavy breathing and the odd pop and snap of the bonfire that lay before her. While the nameless woman took small sips from the canteen with trembling hands, Elenora took this time to quietly remove the heavy steel plates of her armor. First the shoulders, then her armored boots, and finally her gauntlets. She had long since forgone wearing a breast plate. Some might consider it pure insanity in a land such as this. Plagued by all manner of creatures and evil. The obvious inherent dangers of her decision were not lost on Elenora. But one couldn’t deny the boons either. Without the breast plate, she had more range of movement. Faster too. A sigh of relief escaped the Knight when she finally shrugged out of the chainmail worn underneath the armor. Casting off the tattered and faded surcoat worn over it. The gold emblazoned emblem now long since faded from existence. Worn away after long years of use and exposure to the elements. Elenora could hardly care. Whatever Order it bound her to had probably disbanded. If not long dead.

With her armor now resting in a small pile next to the bonfire, one would be surprised to find that the Chosen Undead, somehow, managed to fit a faded beige tunic, worn trousers, and equally worn boots underneath her armor. She relished her new range of free movement. Seizing the opportunity to stretch her sore joints. The life of a wandering Knight had certainly seen to a healthy life style. Unlike her Mother, she cut her fiery red hair short the moment she had taken up the sword. Though she barely remembered her Mothers face, she could still recall that inherent frown of hers whenever she would come to visit.

The indecipherable words of the Nameless Woman grabbed her attention. Glancing back, Elenora noticed that she had emptied the canteen. No sooner had she retrieved her canteen did the Nameless Woman resume her previous pose. Hands clasped together, and head bowed. At this point the Knight was certain that she must be a Fire Keeper. Such actions seemed to be favored by the ones she had met previously. Always in deep thought and just as quiet.

Ever since leaving that accursed Asylum she had been trapped in, Elenora began to look forward to her time spent at a bonfire. She preferred the brief solitude. It allowed her to dwell on the things she had seen. Something that her fellow Undead seemed to prefer as well. Though it was never voiced, it felt like something that was just… understood. No words would be said if there was someone else enjoying a brief respite at a bonfire. Only a shared nod of acknowledgement. There were only a rare few who would say anything to her.

Even rarer if it was anything outside of a warning about something they had encountered, or witnessed, in the area. She never bothered with committing such exchanges to memory. Time wasn’t relative to an Undead. Not anymore. She was perpetually ‘cursed’ to look as she did for eternity. Something else she never cared for.

She brought her right hand up to her chest in a closed fist. Looking down as she slowly opened her hand, revealing a small flame that gradually grew. Stopping just short of the size of a small ball. Elenora recalled the day she had received that flame. It had been rather early in the morning when she was awoken to the sound of someone muttering to themselves. At first, she assumed that the man was on the verge of madness. The eventual fate of any Undead who lost the will to continue on. She was only partially correct. They shared a few brief words of greeting. The recently turned Undead Woman learned he was a Pyromancer, and had wanted to find his beloved wife who went missing some time ago. After years of searching, he learned that she was dead.

His wife was branded with the Dark Sign. Unable to live with that fate, she left while he slept and later took her own life. The man had fallen silent when he finished his tale. After a while he gifted her a part of his own Pyromancy Flame. ‘A reward for listening to his ramblings’ as he called it. Elenora never did see him again. In truth, Elenora wasn’t sure why she remembered that exchange in particular. Was it because of the flickering flame in her hand? Or was it the fact that she remembered his defeated expression in striking detail? The way he seemed to just simply accept his fate? That he chose to just give up after everything he had been through? Her expression turned uncharacteristically grim. Elenora refused to allow herself to submit to such a fate.

The flame in her hand slowly grew in intensity. As if in response to her silent affirmation.

**Author's Note:**

> It's short but I have to start somewhere right? There will be more Chapters in the coming future.
> 
> Be sure to leave a comment telling me what you think! (~˘▾˘)~


End file.
